


Clean Hands

by fianllyclean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean has an addiction to blood, Dean loves Sam a little too much, F/M, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Sammy joined dean bc why not, Serial Killer Dean, Serial Killer Sam Winchester, because i suck at detail oops, i don't update that often btw, i should go into more detail but i won't, idk why i wrote this, lots of blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fianllyclean/pseuds/fianllyclean
Summary: Dean likes killing things. Especially people. He also likes blood. And Sammy.





	1. The First Thirteen

**Author's Note:**

> "Death may be the greatest of all human blessings"  
> \- Socrates

_“The blood runs down my hands,_   
_red, thick, and beautiful._   
_It tastes like honey to me,_   
_fresh from a bee._   
_Except it’s not a bee,_   
_it’s a body._   
_The body that I killed,_   
_the body that I stilled._   
_I heard the screams,_   
_the pleas to live._   
_Nobody asks to die,_   
_not even me._   
_But I can’t stop,_   
_I won’t stop.”_

May 19th, 1997  
It is a hot day in rural Kansas. A perfect day to kill. No, not a monster. A human. Dean has been waiting for so long. His first kill had been a rabbit, when he was eight years old. It was delightful. Dean had stabbed it, watching the blood pour out of it. The dark blood had gotten all over his hands, and he wanted to try it. So he did. The warm, red blood tasted like honey. So sweet in his mouth. He licked his hands clean.

The next kill had been a dog, a small one that was dying anyways. Dean was nine. He did it the day after his birthday, so he considered it a birthday present. God, it felt so good taking away the poor dog’s life. Blood had seeped into the snow, but Dean didn’t care. He licked his hands clean.

Kill number three was a cat. Dean was ten. Dad had let him outside while he was with Sammy. A great opportunity to take life away. He found it in an alley not far away from the motel. Just right. Dean strangled it, loving the power he had. Fortunately, it was weak enough that it barely put up a fight. Not even a single scratch. But there was plenty of blood. Of course he stabbed the cat, what else would he do? The blood was addicting, sweet like honey. It always was. He licked his hands clean.

Victim four was a German Shepard. The thing was beautiful. So beautiful that Dean had to take it’s life away. He was eleven. Number five was a horse. The thing gave him bruises, but he covered them up. Dean had been twelve. Victim six was different. It was human. Dean was thirteen.

Dean had lured a little girl into an alley, making sure no one was around. He wasn’t about to get caught. Dean covered her mouth, and grabbed his knife from his pocket. He sliced her throat, the blood sliding down her body was a sight for sore eyes. He stabbed her in the chest, thirteen times. Thirteen was his lucky number. By the time it was over, he was hard. He licked his hands clean.

Number seven was a boy named James Morgan. Dean was fourteen. And it was Friday the thirteenth. Perfect. Dean showed James an abandoned house. James was scared. Dean thought he was a pussy. He tied the boy down to a bed. Covered his mouth in duck tape. Sliced the neck. Thirteen stabs. He ran his hands through the savory blood. Dean’s cock was aching. He licked his hands clean.

Eight was a girl. Amy Jacobs. Dean was fifteen. She brought him to her house. He didn’t like really like her. She thought he loved her. Stupid girls. Dean tied her up. Just like poor little James. Shut her mouth closed with duct tape. Cut her throat. Stabbed her thirteen times. Her blood was gorgeous. Running down her body like a waterfall. She looked better dead. Dean jerked off in her room. He licked his hands clean.

Victim nine was a varsity player. Dylan Brown. Dean was sixteen. Dean went to his house. The parents weren’t home. Only the two of them. He knocked Dylan out with a baseball bat. Cut his clothes off. Raped him. Tied him up. Duct tape over his mouth. Slit in his throat. Number of stabs - thirteen. Blood was everywhere. He licked his hands clean.

Number ten is Alyssa Kennedy. Dean is eighteen. He didn’t kill anyone last year. Too busy moving. Thanks, John. His thirst for blood was too strong today. Even though the sun has gone down, it’s still hot. Not as hot as Dean. That’s what Alyssa says. Stupid girls. She takes him to her apartment. They have sex. But the fun’s not over. At least for Dean. Ties. Duct tape. Slice. Stabs. Blood. Perfection. Slurps the blood up like a fucking animal. He licks his hands clean.

June 14th, 1997  
Dean needs to kill again. His cycle had been messed up. Thanks, John. Dean is on his own for this first time. And he’s not going to stop himself anymore. He can’t stop himself anymore. Next on is list is Jordan Webb. Number eleven. Dean is still eighteen. Jordan is a nobody. Dean likes nobodies. Jordan isn’t cute, but Dean fakes interest. But he is interested in one thing from Jordan. His blood. Even thinking about blood gets Dean hard. It’s becoming a problem. But it’s a problem he can fix. With murder. Dean finds a shitty motel. Easy enough. Gets Jordan to come back to said motel and spend the night. Stupid boys. He ties the fucker up. Next comes the duct tape. Then the quick split of the jugular. Last is the thirteen stabs. Fucking beautiful. Dean realizes that he now has an addiction to blood. He doesn’t care. He licks his hands clean.

September 24th, 1997  
Time for victim twelve. Almost at thirteen. He’s still only eighteen. Dean spots a pretty girl at a bar. Someone’s got to die. He’s impatient. Always is. He hates waiting for girls and boys to want him. She doesn’t take long. Her name is Shannon Heid. Stupid girls. She takes him to her house. Still lives with her parents. But they aren’t home. God works in mysterious ways. Dean doesn’t bother to have sex. He only wants her blood. Dean ties her up nicely. The tape is black instead of silver this time. Still does it job. The knife is sharp and slices the bitch’s neck like slicing through butter. Wonderful. How many stabs this time? Thirteen. Drinks the blood from her neck. Runs his hands through the blood covering her latex dress. His licks his hands clean.

January 24th, 1998  
Lucky number thirteen. Dean is now nineteen. His birthday present - a kill. This time it’s special. Dean still visits Sammy and John. But only to see Sammy. Dean wants to taste his blood. He loves Sammy. Dean would never kill him. Couldn’t kill him. Just have his blood. Sammy is friends with two sisters. Abigail and Victoria Sainsbury. They’re trying to make Sammy theirs. Too bad for them. No one takes Sammy from Dean. No one. Dean follows them home, parking the Impala a good distance away. No neighbors are around. He walks to their house. The back door is unlocked. Stupid girls. Sneaks up the stairs and leans against their door. They’re talking about Sammy. Stupid girls. Dean doesn’t talk to his victims. This time is different. He opens the door and knocks them out by only punching them. Stupid girls. Uses his handy rope to tie them up. And waits. While he waits for them to wake up, Dean looks through their stuff. The twins have diaries. They both want Sammy. But Dean already knew that. Stupid girls. Abigail and Victoria wake up at the same time. Interesting. “Please let us go! We promise we won’t tell anyone!” Abigail pleads. Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” He tapes their mouths close. Much better. “Sammy is mine. You can’t take him from me. Especially if you’re dead.” Slits their throats. Stabs them, you wait for it, thirteen times. Feasts on their blood. Hell, he’s hard. He licks his hands clean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy gets involved in Dean's twisted fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taking me so long to update! I just started school again, and I haven't had any inspiration lately. So yeah, I've had writers block for like ten years. I hope you enjoy the new chapter! (Sorry it's kinda short, again, it's the writer's block.)

_“Sammy is all mine._  
_Nobody can have him but me._  
_I don’t want to hear their screams._  
_They mean nothing to me._  
_Only Sammy matters._  
_He’s my baby boy._  
_I want him as my little toy._  
_Sammy will listen._  
_And his body will glisten._  
_With the blood._  
_He’ll be beautiful._  
_My baby dressed in red._  
_I’ll get in his head._  
_Make him forget everything._  
_Everything but me.”_

Jack Stillwell was the fourteenth. Maya Casper was fifteen. Dan Heisman was sixteen. Angela Sioux was seventeen. Mark Wickberg was the eighteenth. Samantha Brown was number nineteen.

May 2nd, 1999  
Sam is now sixteen. Dean wants his little brother to join him. They can kill victim twenty together. Dean found a bartender named Carla Goldstein. She’s pretty enough. Sammy is prettier. John isn’t in town, so tonight is perfect. Dean convinces Sam to go with him to some abandoned warehouse. Carla is already tied up. “What is this, Dean? What are you going to do?” “Watch and learn, Sammy.” Instead of covering her mouth with duct tape, Dean stitches her mouth shut. He felt like switching it up. “Dean! Stop it!” “Be quiet.” Sam falls silent, staring in horror at his brother. Once the stitches are in place, Dean pulls out a knife from his waistband and puts it in Sam’s hand. “You’re going to slit her throat, Sammy.” Sam looks like he’s going to cry, but he grips the knife tightly, knuckles turning white. “Dean.” “Do it for me, Sammy.” Dean pushes his little brother towards the girl, and Sam holds the knife against her throat. “You can do it, little brother.” Sam hesitates before splitting her throat, blood pouring down her neck and onto her chest. Sam always listened to him. “Was that okay?” “Perfect, baby boy,” Dean wraps his arms around Sam, kissing his neck softly. “Such a good boy.” Sam moans softly, leaning against his older brother. Dean grabs Sam’s hand, leading the knife to her chest. “Thirteen times, Sammy.” Sam does it without hesitation this time. “Can I taste it?” “Of course you can, Sammy.” Sam licks his hands clean.

June 14th, 1999  
“I want to do it again.” Dean’s driving Sam home from school; it had finally been his last day. Dean raises his eyebrows and glances at his brother. “You sure?” “Of course I’m sure, jerk.” “Bitch.” Dean drops Sam off at the motel, kissing him softly in the doorway before getting back in the Impala. Dean drives to closest bar, and flirts with the bartender until he agrees to meet up with him tonight. Step one complete. Next step- find a place to kill. Dean drives around the area until he finds a rundown gas station and, of course, breaks in. After scouting it, he decided that it’ll have to do. The third step is to wait. Dean spends the rest of the afternoon and evening with his baby brother, and soon enough it’s finally time. At 8 o’clock, Dean strolls into the bar and gets Nicholas Savage into the Impala. Nicholas looks surprised when he sees Sam in the backseat, but before he can say anything, Dean knocks him out. By smashing his head on the dashboard of course. Fourth step done. When they get to the gas station, they carry Nicholas in and lay him down on the floor. Since there’s nothing to tie him to, the brothers wrap his arms and legs securely in duct tape, and lay several strips across him so he can’t move. That was step number five. While Sam and Dean wait for him to wake up, they share a heated kiss, Sam grabbing at Dean, eager as always. “What is this?! Let me go!” They pull away and Dean laughs; they were too busy to notice Nicholas had woken up. “Sorry, pal. Today’s just not your lucky day.” Dean hands Sam the needle and thread, observing his brother carefully do the stitches. “Such a good boy, Sammy,” Sam smiles at his older brother when he’s finished, obviously happy he pleased his brother. The sixth step is complete. “I want you to do it this time.” He requests, giving Dean the butcher knife he stashed in boots. “Anything for you.” Sam licks his lips as Dean cuts through Nicholas’ throat; he never thought seeing his older brother kill someone would turn him on. Seventh step checked off. “How many stabs, Sammy?” “Thirteen.” Dean nods and proceeds to pierce their victim’s skin, blood spewing out of the stab wounds. Check off number eight. Time for the final step. Sam and Dean lick their hands clean.


End file.
